


Better Together

by Lif61 (UltimateFandomTrash)



Series: SPN Hiatus Creations 2020 [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Healing, Fighting, Gen, POV Sam Winchester, SPN Hiatus Creations 2020, TFW 2.0, Violence, injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:54:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24461629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UltimateFandomTrash/pseuds/Lif61
Summary: TFW 2.0 fight their way through a small pack of werewolves.
Series: SPN Hiatus Creations 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1750201
Comments: 3
Kudos: 21





	Better Together

**Author's Note:**

> SPN Hiatus Creations 2020: Week 3 - Favorite Character
> 
> TFW 2.0
> 
> Sam tends to be my favorite character, but I've written so many Sam-centric stories that my creativity well for this was kind of dry. But I decided TFW 2.0 are my favorite characters. Sam's my favorite. Jack's my favorite. I ship Destiel like crazy. I love the Sastiel friendship. I love all of them, and all of them together. They're my favorite characters.

“Duck!”

The cry traveled across the room, reaching Sam’s ears. And he quickly did as his brother said. A cue ball was thrown, going over Sam’s head, and hitting the werewolf behind him.

Sam was on the ground now, scrabbling through the wreckage of the furniture and glasses and drinks in the bar, trying to find his gun.

_Where is it? Where is it? Where is it?_

Jack had found it, and kicked it over to Sam’s desperately reaching hand. He did so just before he deftly dodged one of the werewolves’ claws. Castiel rushed to help him.

The werewolf by Sam clawed his leg, and he screamed, his jeans tearing, blood seeping from his wounds. He started getting dragged, claws digging deep into both legs. Oh god, had it severed any of his tendons? Would he still be able to walk? Sam pushed the thoughts away, adrenaline pounding through him, and he kicked out, rolled onto his back, and aimed at the werewolf. Releasing a breath, feeling a nothingness, a void of concentration, he fired.

Sam’s bullet struck home between the werewolf’s eyes. They went down, dead and bleeding.

Dean cried out, and Sam twisted, looking for his brother. He was pressed against the bar, face pushed into some broken glass that was wet with scotch, and now Dean’s blood. Sam rose to try and help him, even as his legs twinged, and didn’t want to work. He dragged himself over, and received a kick in the face from the werewolf for his efforts. His eyes watered as his nose throbbed.

Jack screamed, Castiel yelled. Sam’s heart pounded, blood rushing in his ears like a frantic, violent demand. He had to help them. He _had_ to. He loved them.

Sam lunged, and grabbed the werewolf that was currently aiming to put his claws in his brother’s throat. They both went down, tumbling, rolling, fighting.

He came away bloody and aching.

Sam surveyed the bar, the fight that was ensuing.

Jack was kneeling, holding a bleeding shoulder that looked as if it’d been bitten. Castiel stabbed a silver knife up into a werewolf against the wall. The force he used to do so spoke about how much he wanted to avenge Jack’s wounds, and the weapon digged in all the way past the hilt. The knife stayed in them as they went down. Jack tried coming over to Sam. The werewolf by him went down, getting pummeled by Dean.

Though it was a risky shot, Sam fired with a deafening _BANG!_ , and the bullet hit the werewolf in the chest. They died choking on blood.

The fight was over.

Sam breathed heavily, shocked, trying to get the adrenaline roaring through his blood to dissipate. The bar was a wreck -- broken furniture everywhere, splashes of drinks from broken bottles soaking the bar and the floor, and blood was splattered wherever he looked.

Castiel spoke, referring to the incident with the werewolves, “I’d rather not do that again.”

He went over to help Jack up, and Dean helped Sam, who had put his gun in the waistband of his jeans. He was bleeding profusely. Sam wanted to reach out for his brother’s face, hold his blood in. But he couldn’t. He just held on.

“Yeah, no kidding,” Dean commented.

“Sam, are you alright?” Castiel asked.

“Tendons,” he heaved out. “They got my tendons.”

After healing Jack, both of them were over in a flash to heal Sam. The healing hurt, his tendons stitching themselves back together at a voracious rate that left him gripping Dean in a white-knuckled grip and gritting his teeth to hold back a scream. Dean was next, Castiel tenderly caressing his face as he healed him. Gold light encompassed them, Castiel’s eyes even glowing a brilliant blue, and then it was over.

Standing on his own, Sam went to Jack, pulling him in close. His son wrapped an arm around his waist. The kid was shaking.

“It’s okay,” Sam soothed. “It’s okay.”

“Sam, I’m sorry,” Jack told him.

“Sorry for what?” he asked, perplexed.

“I could’ve done more, I--”

“Hey, kid,” Dean began. “You did great. You just survived a fight against three werewolves. You know how intense that is?”

“Intense isn’t the word I’d use,” Castiel said.

“Shut up.”

Sam rolled his eyes at Castiel’s and Dean’s bickering. But then Cas came over, and took Jack’s face in his hands, even while Sam held him against his side.

“You did great, Jack. And we’re here with you.”

“Okay, guys, no Hallmark movies,” Dean told them, shifting his weight about on his feet, seeming uncomfortable with the tenderness. Rage, tension, and a hard and rough life was more Dean’s style. Sam knew that, but despite that, he went over and grabbed him, drawing him into a hug. In turn, he received a hard pat on the back that throbbed for a quick second. Jack’s hair got ruffled.

“Nothing gets past Team Free Will two-point-oh, huh?” Dean asked.

Cas smiled. “No, no, it doesn’t.”

“So, what bastards do you want to kill next?” Sam questioned.

Jack responded, “Can we go find a zombie?”

Dean smiled, even as he put the safety on on his gun and put it in the waistband of his jeans. “Hell yeah, we can find a zombie.”


End file.
